<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Blisterback by Mysdrym</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851758">Blisterback</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysdrym/pseuds/Mysdrym'>Mysdrym</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>World of Warcraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Found Family, Hurt/Comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:35:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,606</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851758</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysdrym/pseuds/Mysdrym</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>How Blisterback came to know Theotar.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Blisterback</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He is a good pup.</p><p>He knows this because it is the first thing his master ever said to him, and it is a sentiment that has been repeated to him over the eons, enough so that he knows the word ‘pup’ just as well as his name, better even.</p><p>His name is for orders, but ‘pup’ is for quiet times sitting together off-duty with his master, the venthyr’s claws scratching behind his ears as he tells him how good he’s been. It is for belly rubs and extra treats, ones that are given in secret because the Fearstalker warns they will make him spoiled.</p><p>He hunts the souls that the Fearstalker sends into the woods with his master. They make them better. It has been explained to him over and over, but much of what is said is meaningless to him. What he knows is that he does good, and his master is always pleased after the hunt. He has one of the best noses in Revendreth, after all, and their prey is always caught.</p><p>He protects his master just as his master protects him, they hunt souls, and the world is right.</p><p>Until it isn’t.</p><p>There is something wrong with the souls they hunt. They do not feel right, though he has no words for it. His master does, though. He comments to the Fearstalker and the way she looks at his master makes that fear they chase bubble up inside of him instead of the souls.</p><p>For a while, that is all there is to it.</p><p>The souls are wrong, and his master is quiet, but the belly rubs are just as common, and he knows things will be alright. There have been quiet times before. The ages bring cycles, after all, and this will pass.</p><p>The Master comes. When he receives pets, they are a bit rough, but he does not wince under the Master’s hand. That would embarrass <em>his</em> master, and he will not do that. He is a good pup.</p><p>Tones are harsh. The Master is angry at his.</p><p>He steps between them, a warning growl that there is no need for such threatening behavior. His master sounds terrified as he insists that he is a good pup.</p><p>The Master’s hands swirl with red and the world is dark.</p><p>And then he is waking up. The face in front of him is not his master’s and he looks around, frantic.</p><p>His master was afraid.</p><p>The new face is not a friend. The owner is harsh, using leashes and tactics his master never bothered with. There are no ear scritches or belly rubs.</p><p>As soon as the new face is stupid enough to let him off his chains, he is gone.</p><p>He dares his way back to the last place he remembers seeing his master and dodges the others who try to catch him. They are quick, but he is determined. He makes it back into the woods and searches. He has the best nose and will find his master.</p><p>It is an eternity before a familiar scent pulls him out of his despair.</p><p>He wastes no time.</p><p>The scent leads him to an old gate where a biggun guards the way. After a few attempts to get past, he finally manages when the biggun is distracted with other venthyr. There are cries and tones that issue orders, but he ignores them.</p><p>The world is strange here, bright and harsh. The venthyr are wrong, blistered and crumbling, angry and scared.</p><p>He searches.</p><p>Some of the venthyr attack him, their hands red like The Master’s were. He does what he needs to in order to escape and continue the search.</p><p>When he finds his master, there is no joyful reunion. His master is a crumpled pile, still as stone. He nudges him and nudges him, but there is no response.</p><p>He has seen friends do this before, so he curls up beside him and waits. The light is cruel, and the creatures that were once venthyr watch him from the shadows.</p><p>He will protect his master, no matter how long it takes for him to wake up.</p><p>Their attacks are slow at first, measured. One crawls toward him and he bares his fangs and roars.</p><p>The creature only pauses for a moment and then retreats.</p><p>This happens more and more frequently, with more and more at a time. They edge closer and closer every time.</p><p>He should leave, but he cannot abandon his master.</p><p>When they finally attack, it is brutal. He tears and claws his way through three of them before accidentally tossing one into his master.</p><p>His master’s body falls apart and scatters.</p><p>He has seen this happen before, too, and knows what it means.</p><p>His master cannot come back now.</p><p>Rage fills him, and he tears through more of the creatures, but they are a swarm, and they conjure the red swirls that make him slower and slower.</p><p>It does not go dark.</p><p>He will not let it.</p><p>He swipes and bites, anything to avenge the one he will never see again.</p><p>As he is overwhelmed, there is more red in the air.</p><p>He waits for it to hit, to make him brittle, but it does not come.</p><p>Instead, it hits into the creatures attacking, and one by one they fall or scurry to safety.</p><p>A venthyr approaches. The creature’s shirt is tattered, but he carries something that blocks the light around him, if only a little.</p><p>He growls, does his best to snap, but he is too weak to put up a good defense.</p><p>The venthyr kneels, just far enough away to appraise him without worry that he will reach.</p><p>“Just what is a gargon doing out here, hmm?”</p><p>He growls.</p><p>“It been protectin’ that corpse,” a dredger says. It stands near the venthyr with another.</p><p>The venthyr moves toward his scattered master.</p><p>He somehow finds the strength to move, to put himself between the two. His master will not come back, but that does not mean he will not defend him from further cruelty.</p><p>The venthyr stops and waits for him to settle before offering words that mean nothing.</p><p>“We will bury him,” the venthyr declares.</p><p>He knows those words. He has seen others returned to the earth in his eons. They do not come back, but they are respected.</p><p>“We will bury him,” repeats the venthyr.</p><p>And they do.</p><p>When the pieces have been placed together, the ground covering them, the venthyr offers him his master’s belt.</p><p>He sniffs it and then lets the venthyr put it around his neck. The scent is familiar and comforts him. Red dances around the venthyr’s fingers, and he closes his eyes.</p><p>If he is to go into the dark again, he is glad to be with the one who loved him so completely.</p><p>Energy swells through him.</p><p>Opening his eyes, he finds the venthyr there, reaching out tentatively to pat his head. “You’ll be alright.”</p><p>He looks back to where his master has gone to rest and then up at the venthyr as he stands up and brushes dust off his pants. The venthyr pats his head and turns away, already talking to the dredgers.</p><p>The venthyr motions for him to follow, offering a hand. “I don’t have much, I’m afraid—I don’t think gargon care for tea, but you’re welcome to come with us.”</p><p>He stands there another moment before deciding. He turns and goes back to where his master is buried and lays down.</p><p>He stays there, waiting for the darkness to take him. Time passes and winds on. The creatures sometimes edge close, but there have been no other attacks. Sometime he thinks he sees some just watch him.</p><p>Venthyr, dredgers, creatures.</p><p>They do not approach.</p><p>It is a familiar scent that finally gets him to move.</p><p>It is that of the friendly venthyr, and it is mixed with fear and distress.</p><p>He races quickly to the ravine and past hissing creatures that he pays no mind.</p><p>He doesn’t stop until he finds the venthyr, fighting off others. The venthyr has lost his shirt.</p><p>He defends him, and he him.</p><p>It is a familiar pattern that he falls into easily enough.</p><p>When their enemies have fallen, he looks up to the venthyr. He does not make sense when he talks, and so he nudges him with his nose and leads the venthyr into the shade. The dredgers come, and they lead the venthyr away.</p><p>He follows.</p><p>He waits outside the shaded room that the others go into, watching for more creatures that may attack.</p><p>When the venthyr comes to the doorway, there is a change. The creature is something between the other times he has met him.</p><p>The venthyr sits down and offers a hand, so he goes over and sits in reach, allowing the venthyr to scratch behind his ears.</p><p>“You are a very good pup.”</p><p>He knows this, but it is so nice to hear after so long.</p><p>He lets out a soft boof, the sort of sound he only ever made when he and his master were alone. The venthyr is delighted.</p><p>“If there are to be introductions, I am Theotar.” The venthyr does a small half bow from where he is sitting and goes on, asking what he should be called.</p><p>Words tumble from Theotar’s mouth, but none of them matter because he knows the ones that do.</p><p>Words of love.</p><p>He will stay, and he will watch over Theotar. He will keep him safe, until the darkness comes again, and longer, if he is able.</p><p>Because he is a good pup.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope it wasn't too confusing with both Blisterback and Theotar's pronouns at the end. Wasn't sure what to do with that, so I'm sorry if it got hard to follow.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>